by Mallory Kane
But he couldn’t afford to let his family know where he was—not yet. He wanted to see Kate first. And now, here he was.
He took a deep breath and reached up to rub his stubbled cheek. He felt his arm muscles tremble at the small exertion. He blew out a frustrated breath. Was part of the shakiness caused by the anticipation of seeing her? One way or another, he had to rebuild his strength.
He reached for the car door handle. He’d go to the door, tell her what he came to tell her, then get a room for the night. At a decent hour in the morning, he’d go to his parents’ house. If he really pleaded with his mom, he could convince her not to tell anyone he was home. Then in a few days, he’d figure out what his next step should be. The one thing he knew was that there was no way he’d go back to Walter Reed or to any other hospital.
He walked up to Kate’s front door, thinking it was probably a good sign that the only car in the driveway was the Accord, the same car she’d had five years ago. If she had a man in her life, it appeared he wasn’t here.
Travis squeezed his hands into fists, flexed his fingers, then knocked on the door and waited.
Nothing happened. He glanced at the windows. He didn’t hear any movement, didn’t see any lights flash on. The one dim light, which looked like a lamp in the living room, remained the only light on in the house.
He knocked again, his brain suddenly filled with all the reasons why she wasn’t answering the door. Why hadn’t he thought of all this earlier?
There was a man and they had gone out in his car.
She was asleep, although at eight-thirty that didn’t seem likely.
She was in the back of the house and hadn’t heard him knock.
She’d recognized him through the window and didn’t want to open the door.
Then he heard something. He took a step back, his hands at his sides like a schoolboy, and waited to see the face that had kept him from losing his mind during those five long months in captivity.
* * *
KATE STARED AT the doorknob through blurry, tear-swollen eyes. Her first thought when she’d heard the knock was that the police had found Max and brought him home. She’d almost fainted with relief. Then it occurred to her that the young woman from the day care might have seen through her desperate lies and had called the cops to report her child missing.
“No, please. Just don’t be the police,” she whispered as she opened the door, praying for the best but bracing herself for the worst. She clung to the knob as she tried to see who was standing in the shadows beyond the dim porch light.
Suddenly, a third possibility rose in her brain. This could be Max’s abductor, here to tell her what he wanted her to do. Her breath hitched. Maybe he’d have Max with him.
She pressed a palm against her chest and stared at the dark figure that stood just beyond the light. She blinked, but she still couldn’t see into the darkness. “Who is it?” she asked, trying to sound confident, but hearing the hoarse fear in her voice.
The figure moved forward so that the light played across his features. Kate frowned, trying to make sense of what she saw. “H-Harte?” she stammered, taking in the familiar hard edge of the man’s jaw. “Is that you?”
“Kate?”
The voice was ragged and hesitant. Kate frowned and squinted. The body was whipcord thin with long, sinewy muscles. No, it wasn’t Harte—but everything about the figure was so familiar. Who could it be? Her brain whirled, trying to make sense of what her eyes saw. There were two older Delancey brothers who were cops. Was this one of them, come to tell her something about Max? Terror ripped through her heart. The police rarely came to the door with good news.
The figure took another step forward, enough so that the light caught his dark, intense eyes.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. There was no mistaking those eyes. “How—? Where—?” Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She clutched at her chest. She felt light-headed. Then her knees collapsed. “Travis?”
* * *
TRAVIS CAUGHT KATE as she swayed. He staggered under her weight. Not that she was heavy. He was just so damned weak. He half carried her to the couch and sat her down. There were drops of sweat on her forehead and she was pale as a ghost. But that didn’t make sense. Kate had always been the epitome of control. She wouldn’t faint. She wasn’t the type.
He sat on the coffee table and looked at her closely. He’d noticed how pale she was as soon as she’d opened the door. Now he saw that the skin around her eyes was puffy and red. She’d been crying, and that wasn’t like her, either. Something was desperately wrong with her. And the one thing he was sure of was that it had nothing to do with him.
She stirred and opened her eyes. It didn’t matter how red and swollen they were. Those aquamarine eyes were stunning. She stared blankly for a few seconds as if she weren’t looking at him at all. Then she took a deep breath that hitched at the top like a sob and sat up.
“Travis?” she said tentatively. Her hand lifted toward him.
He caught it in his. “Hey,” he said, smiling at her. To his horror, her face crumpled and she started crying, pulling her hand away. The crying was a tortured, desperate weeping, totally silent, except for the short, sobbing breaths. Tears streamed down her cheeks, which already appeared chapped. She clasped her hands, the fingers intertwining like a nest of snakes.
Travis felt impotent, helpless. He had no idea what was the matter with her and no idea what to do. But he knew all this was a lot more than just a reaction from seeing him at her door. He went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. In the dim light from the one lamp, he stumbled over something on the floor. He looked in the cabinet for a glass, pushing aside small, colorful plastic cups with cartoon logos on them to reach a tumbler. He navigated a maze of plastic things on the floor to get back to the couch.
She’d blotted her tears with the cuff of her suit jacket and was sitting calmly. Every so often a little sob would shake her.
After handing her the water, Travis sat down on the coffee table again, avoiding a big pile of picture books and DVDs. He watched as Kate drank the water. Once it was gone, he took the glass and set it down beside him.
Her gaze locked to his. “What—what are you doing here?” she asked, entwining her fingers again and squeezing until the knuckles turned white.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “What’s wrong with you? Has something happened?”
“Oh,” she gasped, pressing both hands to her chest as if the pain there was too much to bear.
“Kate, tell me.”
He watched her gather strength from somewhere. She sat up and wiped the tears away from her face, then took a deep breath. It still hitched slightly, but she ignored it. “They’ve taken Max,” she said. Her gaze wavered for a second. “My son.”
Her words hit Travis like a blow to the gut. “Your what?” he said stupidly, as his brain repeated what she’d said. They’ve taken Max. My son. If he had any further doubt that he’d misheard, the look on Kate’s face convinced him. She was terrified and sick with worry. No wonder she’d collapsed.
Then, suddenly, something clicked in his brain. All the things he’d been dodging and tripping over since he had come into the house suddenly made sense. The plastic things on the floor were toys and the picture books and DVDs on the coffee table were children’s stories. Now the little neon-bright cups with cartoon logos made sense, as well.
“Who, Kate? Who took him?” He wanted to ask more questions, different ones. Whose son is he? Why didn’t you let me know? Where’s his father now, when you need him? But those questions could wait.
“I don’t know,” she said desperately. “They— The man called.”
“Have you phoned the police?” he asked, knowing the answer. If she had, they’d be here.
“No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “If I do, he’ll be gone forever.” She wasn’t crying now. She sat still, stiff as a board, and kept her eyes on her hands clasped in her lap. “He said so.”
&
nbsp; Travis took them in his. “Listen to me, Kate. Whatever they told you, whatever you think they might do, we have to call the police. They know how to deal with these things—”
“No!” she snapped, pulling away. “No police! I just have to do what they say. It’ll all be over soon if I just do what they say.”
“You said you don’t know who they are?”
She shook her head. “No, but I know what they want. All I have to do is declare that Myron Stamps was temporarily insane at the time of the shooting, so he can be acquitted. Then they’ll bring Max home.” She nodded. “They will—” her breath hitched again “—won’t they?”
“I don’t know, Kate.” Travis studied her. “Look, I’ll call Lucas—my oldest brother. He’s a detective with NOPD. He’ll know what to do.”
“No!” she cried, vaulting up. Her face was a mask of desperate fear. “I said no. You can’t say anything to anybody. They’ll kill my baby. They said so.” She wrung her hands. “Please.”
“Okay.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
She stared at him suspiciously, tears glittering in her eyes. “Please, Travis. You have to promise me you won’t say anything.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, why did I tell you? They said if I told anyone— I was just so surprised to see you standing there.”
Travis remembered what she’d said when she had first seen his face. His chest felt as if a massive fist had reached in and squeezed his heart. “You said my brother’s name when you first opened the door. I didn’t think you knew any of my family. Is Harte—?” His voice quit on him.
“What? Harte?” She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“Is he—?” He gestured vaguely around. “Is he your son’s—?”
Understanding lit her blue eyes. Understanding and frustration. She frowned. “No! Of course not. I know Harte from the D.A.’s office.”
Travis waited but Kate didn’t offer up any further explanation. He didn’t want to pry—Lord knew he had no right to—but he needed to know one thing. “Kate, does your son’s father know? Is he coming?”
She looked up at him, then back down at her hands. “No.”
“What about your family? Any of them coming down to help you?”
“I haven’t called anybody. Didn’t you hear what I told you? They said not to tell anyone.”
“Yet you told me,” he said quietly.
She nodded dejectedly. “And now I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to. You—surprised me.” She gasped. “What if they’re watching the house? They’ll think you’re the police. They’ll think I called you. You have to go.” She shot to her feet and grabbed his shirtsleeve. “Get up. You have to get out of here, right now, before they find out you’re here.”
Travis stood. “Kate, calm down.” He took her hand off his sleeve and held it. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
“No!” she snapped, jerking her hand away. “You don’t understand. They will kill him. Kill him. You have to go. Go!”
“Kate, listen to me.” Travis wrapped his fingers around her upper arms. “You’ve got to calm down right now. You’re panicking and not thinking straight. We need to think about this rationally. Figure out the best thing to do. I’ll guarantee you one thing. I am not leaving you here alone.”
Kate just squeezed her arms tighter around herself. “But what about Max? I can’t take the chance—”
“Think about it. They’re not going to hurt him. They know that the only reason you’ll agree to help them is to save your son. They wouldn’t dare do anything to him now.”
She stared at him and slowly, under his fingers, her arm muscles relaxed. “They won’t? How do you know that?”
“They don’t have a choice. They have to make sure he’s safe and cared for.” God he hoped he was right. The people who had taken her child weren’t asking her to decide if someone lived or died. All they wanted was for her to say that some guy had been temporarily insane when he’d shot someone. Surely they had no intention of harming the child. Now, if he could only make her believe it.
She nodded.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now I’m going to call Lucas—”
She grabbed his hand, digging her nails into his palm. “No! I told you, no police!”
“I thought we agreed they’re not going to hurt him.”
“Travis, I hope you’re right,” she said, those aquamarine eyes staring intensely into his. “I pray you are, but until my baby is back in my arms, I have to believe what they told me. I am not telling anyone anything.”
He knew that look in her eyes and that tone of voice. She’d reached her limit. She wouldn’t budge.
He shrugged. “Okay. Well, you’re not getting rid of me. I don’t care if I have to camp on your lawn—I’m not leaving you to face this alone.”
Her face fell apart again. Her eyes closed and she swayed. Travis caught her and pulled her into his arms. Holding her, taking care of her, was what he’d dreamed of during the long months he’d spent in captivity. Dreamed of, but never believed would happen. He’d been afraid he would die in that hellhole. So he’d fortified himself and stayed sane by reliving his memories of the people he loved.
He was holding the best part of those memories in his arms right now, but his reasons for coming here no longer mattered. Kate’s limp, trembling body was testament to the torture she was experiencing. Her child was missing. His goal now was to lend her what little strength he had and help her find her little boy. He held her, trying to ignore the familiar strawberry scent of her hair and the firm yet soft feel of her body against his.
Finally she straightened and pushed against him, ready to stand on her own two feet again.
“You okay?” he whispered, his mouth near her ear.
She nodded, sending another wave of strawberries across his nostrils.
“I’ll let you stay here. I don’t want to be by myself. Besides—” she lifted her head and looked into his eyes “—I have to keep an eye on you so you won’t call in the entire Delancey police force.”
He smiled grimly. Grasping her arms, he set her away from him. “I promise you I won’t. Not until you and I both agree,” he said, pointing at her then at himself to emphasize that he was being truthful. “Now on to more important things. You look exhausted. Why don’t you take a shower and get ready for bed?”
She started shaking her head. “I can’t sleep—”
He squeezed her arms and bent his head to look into her eyes. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you have no other choice,” he said. “If you don’t sleep, you’ll lose strength and focus. Trust me, I know. You won’t be able to think clearly enough to do your job.”
She lifted her head. “You’re right,” she said. “I guess I will take a shower. What time is it?”
Travis glanced at his watch. “Nine-thirty. Are you going in to work tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “I’ll have to pretend to be sick. There’s no way I can fool my secretary, Alice. She’ll know something’s wrong.” As she talked, she took off the gray suit jacket and began unbuttoning her shirt, seemingly unaware that she was undressing right in front of him. Then she turned and walked out of the living room.
Travis watched her and swallowed hard as an image of her—wet, warm and naked from the shower—filled his inner vision. He’d always loved to touch her, to taste her, after her shower. Her skin always smelled and tasted like lavender, and her hair like strawberries.
His stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts. Just as well. He had no right to think of her like that. He deliberately turned his mind to practical things. He needed to eat something or he was going to collapse. He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a block of cheddar cheese, a carton of milk and several containers of yogurt, as well as about a dozen individually boxed juice drinks. He looked around and spotted half a loaf of bread. Grabbing a slice, he wrapped it around a couple slices of cheese. Picking up the milk carton, he sniffed it
. It was fine. Milk probably didn’t last long enough to go bad with a kid around. He poured himself a glass, then leaned against the refrigerator and ate.
* * *
BY THE TIME he’d forced down half of the sandwich, Kate came out into the living room in a terry-cloth robe. The hot water hadn’t helped her swollen eyes much, but she did look more comfortable and somewhat more relaxed.
“You look like you feel a little better,” he said.
Kate stared at Travis, leaning against her refrigerator as if he belonged there. How had he materialized at her door on this of all nights? The hot shower had drained the last dregs of energy out of her, but as she looked at him, it occurred to her that he looked worse than she did. He was pale and drawn. His clothes hung loose on his frame and there were dark circles under his eyes.
He saluted her with the glass. “I helped myself. Hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Kate said. “I just need enough milk for Max’s—” She stopped and put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the moan that burned in her throat. She hunched her shoulders against the pain that settled under her breastbone. “I keep forgetting he’s not here. I can’t stand it,” she whispered. “What am I going to do?”
“It’s going to be okay, Kate. I promise.”
“Is it?” she said. “I don’t like empty words. You know that.”
His mouth thinned. “Yet you’re asking empty questions. You know what you should do. I’m not suggesting you call 9-1-1 and have police cars racing over here with sirens blazing. But if you’d let me call Lucas or Ethan, they could help you. They’ll know how to deal with a kidnapping.”
Kate stiffened and clenched her fists. “I said no,” she snapped. “We are talking about my son’s life. I have to be able to trust you, because if I can’t, then—” She stopped. Then what? He already knew Max had been kidnapped. He could call his brothers anytime. For all she knew he already had.
“Did you call anybody while I was in the shower?”
He shook his head, looking down at the empty glass in his hand as if he didn’t remember that he had it. Then he turned and set it on the kitchen counter.
